


Secrets (Or A Lack Thereof)

by CaptainLeBubbles



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3471803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLeBubbles/pseuds/CaptainLeBubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They ordered him to tell the truth; he did. Their reaction wasn't exactly what he was expecting. </p><p>Also, Wash is the most oblivious guy ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets (Or A Lack Thereof)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a silly Grif/Simmons fic but then Wash and his ptsd took over. I split it into two parts; the Wash story is over [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3471881).

o/o

“Tell us your secrets, Grif!”

Grif glared around at seventeen faces, all staring at him expectantly. He supposed, now, that he shouldn't have been so mocking of _their_ secrets, but he was usually a lot better at this game and hadn't expected the ball to land in _his_ court.

“One secret, Grif,” Donut said sternly. “Or you have to take a forfeit.”

Behind him, Sarge cocked his shotgun pointedly. Grif wondered whose idea it had been to put Sarge in charge of forfeits. Probably Simmons. Simmons was _always_ kissing Sarge's ass. Well, not as much anymore, but now that Sarge was a colonel and outranked all of them again, he was falling back into his old ways. Or maybe it was just that the stress of his first command had run its course.

Speaking of Simmons, the other was the only one not watching him expectantly. Grif suspected this was because Simmons _already_ knew all of Grif's secrets, and there was nothing Grif could say that would come as a surprise to him.

Grif frowned, and a part of him woke up- that quiet voice in the back of his mind that only spoke up when Simmons wasn't paying enough attention to him. He had _one_ secret that Simmons didn't know, _one_ secret that would get the other's attention off of his drink and right back onto Grif, where it belonged.

“I'm in love with Simmons,” Grif blurted, before the rest of his brain could tell him to shut up. “Like, romance-novel love. Like, long-term, marriage-and-kids-and-commitment love. The real kind, not the stupid crush you get on someone when you get through a stressful situation together.”

He stared defiantly around at them all, daring them to react, with shock or disgust or disapproval or all of the above- and was surprised when they scoffed and seemed to be waving his words away.

“Dude, we said a _secret_ ,” Tucker said. “Secret means something nobody knows, not something _everybody_ knows.”

“It is a secret!”

“It really isn't.” Tucker folded his arms irritably. “Everyone knows. _Everyone_. General Doyle here has only known you idiots for an hour, and _he_ already knows. Right, General?”

General Doyle looked surprised to be the center of attention again so soon. He mopped his brow with a handkerchief and inclined his head politely “Well, yes, as a matter of fact I had assumed that you were married. Is that not the case?”

“Only as far as _official_ marriages go,” Tucker said. “But they're totally married. And _everyone knows_.” He was still glaring at Grif, annoyed that the man had tried to pass off something Tucker was fully aware of as a secret.

“I didn't know.” Wash had his hand slightly raised. Church snorted.

“Dude, you didn't even know about Maine's _gigantic and obvious_ crush on you, you have no room to talk.”

“Well- I-” Wash turned a brilliant shade of scarlet, and ran his hands through his hair in embarrassment. “That's different. I wasn't- I mean-”

“Wash, I was in your head for like, ten minutes and I noticed. I hadn't even met the guy at that point!”

“Oh? And was that _before_ or _after_ you went crazy and took me with you?”

An uncomfortable silence descended. It wasn't often that Wash and Epsilon's past bond was brought up. In fact, it was usually a subject that no one would touch with a twenty foot rocket launcher- except under the influence of lots and lots of alcohol. Wash glared at Church; after a moment, Church mumbled something about needing to do a systems check and switched off.

Wash slumped down in his seat. Carolina gave him a sympathetic look, and the uncomfortable silence expanded. It spread around the shitty room, settling into crevices and taking up residence in unoccupied corners. Tucker cleared his throat.

“Right. Now that we have established Wash as the _most oblivious guy ever_ , can we get back to the game? Grif still owes us a secret, because the secret he shared was _not even a little secret_ because _everyone already knew it_.”

“I didn't.” The voice was quiet, barely audible except for the still-awkward silence occupying the room. Simmons didn't look up from his drink, a position he'd been occupying since before Grif had even spoken. He was picking nervously at the label on the bottle; it was a shredded mess at this point. “And since I'm the subject of the secret, that means it was a successful secret and counts. I'm going for a walk.”

He pushed away from the table and left without another word. Grif gave Tucker a triumphant 'Ha!' and leaned back in his chair, kicking up his feet onto the table and grinning smugly at everyone. “Simmons knows rulebooks back to front. If he says it stands, it stands.”

Tucker was still annoyed, but he knew better than the press the issue. He threw his hands in the air. “Oh fine, what-the-fuck-ever. Palomo, it's your turn now.”

“But- but I haven't-”

“Just stop arguing and tell us a secret, Palomo!”

While everyone turned their attention to Palomo and his lame-ass secret about wetting the bed till he was eleven (seriously, did he think anyone cared? Well, he was just a kid- that must seem like such a big deal to him), Grif pushed away from the table and slipped away. Only Tucker noticed, because he was still glaring at Grif from the corner of his eye, and Carolina, because Carolina noticed _everything_.

o/o

Grif found Simmons in the remains of a park, sat on a bench and staring at a flower bed. The flowers had long since bid their farewell to the world; all that remained was a trampled patch of dirt. Grif flicked his cigarette butt into the dirt because he knew it would annoy Simmons, and sat down beside the other man. He lit up another cigarette and took a long drag on it, blowing smoke out into the night air.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Silence.

“Do you want _me_ to talk about it?”

A snort. Grif grinned, mismatched because his cheeks pulled differently on either side.

Silence reigned once more, a benevolent ruler this time. Grif scooted closer to Simmons until their hands were brushing, matching hands. Grif thought it was a bit trippy, but it seemed to make sense, it was just them. He bit his lip, ready to back away if he had to, and moved his hand to rest over Simmons's, then twined their fingers together when Simmons made no move to stop him.

“You're a dumbass,” Simmons said. Grif's grin grew wider.

“And you're a kissass, but I still-”

“Don't say it.”

Grif bit the words back. Simmons turned to look at him finally, the first time he'd looked at him since before Grif had even made his confession. He looked cross; the light of his robotic eye was a deeper red than usual. “Don't say it. If you can't say it without being drunk-dared to, then I don't want to hear it.”

“You are way too fucking picky, Simmons.” He flicked the cigarette butt out to join the other and took Simmons' face in his free hand, dragging him over so he could kiss him. Simmons made a noise of surprise, but he didn't try to pull away, so Grif deepened the kiss, tangling his fingers in Simmons' hair. When he broke away, he heard a soft, pleased sigh, and sat back, grinning.

“All right, I won't say it.”

Not like it needed saying anyway. Tucker was right- it was _obvious_.

o/o

 


End file.
